


Safe

by emo_trash



Category: Bandom, Pierce the Veil
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Better than it sounds, But this is not actually about his arms, Domestic Violence, F/M, Fluff, Guitar, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Language, Possibly Triggering, Protective Vic, Sexicans, Verbal Abuse, Vic's arms are amazing, maybe next time, snuggles, sorry - Freeform, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:03:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emo_trash/pseuds/emo_trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're over at your best friend Vic's house when you finally slip up and let the cat out of the bag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

        Tears stream down your face as your body shakes with sobs. Every movement hurts. You curl into yourself, huddling on the floor.  
        Your boyfriend Matt stands over you. He reeks like alcohol -- as usual. His foot draws back and then delivers another crushing blow to the ribs. Spit flies from his mouth as he hollers various insults at you. He kicks you again, and you have to bite down on your hand to muffle your scream.  
        Matt hates it when you scream.  
        He leans down then and drags you upright by your long brown hair. "You little fucking slut!" he spits, smacking you hard across the face. "Where were you today, huh? Were you out with that fucking _Mexican _again?" You choke out another sob, shaking your head vigorously, feeling pain shooting through your scalp. "What was that?" Matt shouts. "What did you say? Are you fucking _lying _to me, you pathetic cunt?!"____  
        "N-no, Matt! Please!" you beg. "I wasn't with Vic! I swear!"  
        He pulls you closer to his face. "Good," he sneers. "You're _my _bitch, you got that?!" The smell of whiskey on his breath is overwhelming. It makes your head spin. "You're all mine."_  
        He crashes his lips down into yours and shoves you onto the bed. "My bitch," he repeats, climbing on top of you.  
        His touch disgusts you, but you know by now not to fight back._

        Vic's apartment smells like a Mexican restaurant, and it's wonderful. It's here, really, that's your salvation, your saving grace.  
        Or maybe it's just him. He's a savior to to many of his fans...maybe he's yours, too.  
        Whatever it is, you're never more content than when you're sitting on Vic's couch, watching him strum mindlessly on a guitar while he talks with you. Your conversations span over any number of different topics—music, politics, the best ice cream shop in town—but you shy away every time he tries to bring up Matt.  
        You know that he's worried about you. It terrifies you to think that he might have some suspicion as to what's going on. You don't want to burden him with your troubles; and besides, it would be mortifying if he came to realize just how weak you really are, letting things go on as long as they have.  
        Thankfully, though, he doesn't push it, though he does keep a careful eye on you all day, taking in every wince and flinch that manifests itself when you pull on a scabbed cut or a sore muscle.  
        "Can you teach me to play?" you ask suddenly. "I've always wanted to learn."  
        Vic stops strumming. "The guitar?" You nod affirmatively and he shrugs, slipping the strap over his head and handing you the guitar.  
        You run your hand lightly over the smooth wooden surface, feeling the textured surface of the strings press firmly into your inexperienced fingertips. You slip the strap over your own head and hold the instrument the way Vic usually does. It feels awkward and clunky in your hands.  
        You feel Vic scoot behind you, wrapping his arms around you to adjust your hands. His chest is pressed against your back and his face is very close to yours. His breath stirs the little loose hairs around your face, and it smells pleasantly of spearmint gum.  
        He grabs your wrists gently, guiding the hand on the guitar's neck up higher, twisting your wrist so that you're at the right angle and your grip is loser. "Like that," he says softly.  
        You can feel his chest rumble slightly as he talks, and you have to fight back a shiver.  
        He scoots in even closer to your body and pulls you onto his lap. Your breath catches involuntarily and you lean back against him. He places his hands over yours, aligning your fingers carefully.   
        Is it just you, or is heart beating a little too fast?  
        He presses your fingers against the strings, using his other hand to make you strum the guitar.   
        "That's a G," he murmurs against your ear, and this time there's no fighting the shiver that runs through you.  
        You turn to face him slightly. Your noses almost touching, breathing the same air, you stare into his warm brown eyes. Your head is spinning and your pulse is racing under your skin as Vic leans in closer still.  
        What's happening? Why is your body reacting like this? This is _Vic Fuentes! _Your best friend since _sixth grade! _____  
Or...maybe something more. You don't usually want to kiss your best friend, and especially not as bad as you want to kiss Vic right now.  
        You shut your mind off, letting your eyes flutter shut and tilting your chin up, lips parting ever-so-slightly.  
        Vic's breath is warm on your face as he ghosts his lips over yours, so softly that, had you not been hyper-aware of his presence in that moment, you wouldn't have even noticed.  
        You lean in, seeking more, the guitar in your hands completely forgotten.   
        Just before you can fully connect, the wailing of an electric guitar shatters the air, startling you so badly that you'd have fallen to floor had Vic not caught you.  
        Your whole face is red-hot as you leap off of Vic's lap, thrusting the guitar at him and fumbling for your phone which is still blaring Suicide Silence's _Disengage _. You look at the caller ID and your stomach drops.__  
        Matt.  
        You fumble for the _talk _button, bringing the phone to your ear. "H-hey babe!" you greet fake-cheerfully, forcing a smile so that (hopefully) Vic won't think anything is up. Speaking of Vic, he's still sitting on the couch, guitar awkwardly in his arms, blushing profusely. "What's up?" you continue, hoping that you don't sound as breathless as you feel.__  
        "You're fucking _dead _when you get back here, slut!" Matt slurs over the phone. His voice is oddly loud. "This house is a fucking _wreck! _Do you not fucking _remember _me telling you to keep this place fucking clean?! Get your pathetic fucking ass home _right fucking now _and _clean this shit up!! _If you do, then maybe— _maybe! _—I won't fucking _kill _you!!"______________  
        Tears pool in your eyes and a lump rises in your throat, strangling you. You can barely breathe, much rather speak. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, struggling to get your shit together to respond to your boyfriend.  
        Suddenly, though you feel the phone ripped out of your hands. Your eyes shoot open to reveal Vic standing in front of you, face bright red with rage, every muscle in his body clenched, practically shaking in his fury. His normally-warm brown eyes and cold and hard, revealing murderous intent behind them.   
        You've never seen Vic like this before, and, to be perfectly honest, it's fucking terrifying.  
        He glares down at the phone clenched tightly in his fist. He doesn't bring it to his ear but instead begins shouting down at it. "You'd better hope that you're fucking kidding, man!" he roars. "Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to _(y/n) ___like that?! I should come beat the shit out of you right now!!"  
        You shrink back, away from the enraged Vic. You're so confused as to what's happening right now. You knew that your phone was loud, but there's no way he could have heard it from where he'd sat on the couch.  
        There is a moment of silence on the other line, but then Matt's slurred voice rings out, loud and clear as day. "'Scuse me?" he snarls. "Who the fuck do you think you are?! _(Y/n) _, who the fuck is this prick?!"__  
        You feel bile rise in your throat and you clamp one hand over your mouth tightly.  
        You fucked up. You fucked up big time. You can't believe how stupid you are.  
        Your phone is on speaker. In your clumsily thumbing the buttons, you accidentally put the phone on speaker.  
        Which means Vic heard everything.   
        You drop onto the couch and pull your legs up, curling in on yourself. You keep your hand held firmly against your mouth as you press your forehead against your knees, tears leaking from your eyes against your will.   
        You curl in tighter—maybe if you try hard enough, you can disappear entirely.   
        You hear Vic and your boyfriend exchange insults and threats for a while, mostly only their voices rather than any actual words. Then there is silence, and the couch shifts next to you as Vic sits down hesitantly.  
        Gentle hands are at your shoulders and he turns you around, pulling you into his lap once again. You bury your face into his chest and sob your eyes out. He runs his long fingers through your hair, rubbing soothing circles on your back with the other hand.  
        You feel his heart beating against your cheek and struggle to match your breathing to his. He murmurs to you constantly. "It's okay now..." "It's not your fault..." "You're safe now..." "I'm here; I've got you..."  
        "You're mine, and nobody's ever gonna hurt you again."


End file.
